Sundays

Sunday is invariably the worst day of my week, simply because it precedes Monday.

Fridays are useless. Every Friday, exhausted from fighting the good fight all week, I typically barely have the energy to properly celebrate making through the week. I’m usually on my way to bed by 11, promising myself that I’m going to get a whole bunch of work done on Saturday. This never happens. Saturday is my day to forget about everything (unless I have Hopkins class). In any case, all the work I’m supposed to be doing gets pushed back to Sunday, and Sunday is when I’m hit with the full anxiety of everything I’ve postponed. I typically work a solid 10 hours on Sundays, trying to get all my ducks in order for the week. I always go to bed not quite fully prepared and restless due to the things in the back of my mind I know I still need to do.

Sundays are so bad that my Saturdays are beginning to suffer. I find myself caught in the dilemma of whether I should stay up late to “postpone” Sunday morning, or whether I should go to bed early so that when Sunday morning unavoidably does come, at least I’m not sleepy.

I need a vacation; spring break can’t possibly come soon enough!

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